


when my dreams are sleeping

by dizzy



Series: road trip mix tape 2018 (aka, the tour fics) [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: Dan's legs feel like noodles and his brain feels full of spikes, like his own thoughts are things he needs to twist and turn through or else get trapped in.





	when my dreams are sleeping

Dan wakes to a tickle of fingertips down his stomach. He slaps at the sensation with heavy, sleep numbed fingers and then smiles when Phil grabs his hand and doesn't let it go. 

He's still smiling when he feels the kiss on his shoulder. "Time to get up, sleepy." 

He curls his fingers through Phil's. "Time for sleepy, stupid." 

"Dan," Phil admonishes gently, but he tucks his body up behind Dan's anyway. "How are you feeling?" 

Phil's question is like a needle through the thin bubble around those early waking minutes, catching his brain up to his body. 

It's a shitty feeling, like a weight slamming into his chest. 

Dan rejects the first answer that comes to mind. He thinks with purpose, takes stock of himself. "Tired," he says, tugging Phil's arm higher up his chest until Phil is properly hugging him. "Heavy." 

"Okay," Phil says, ready to accept Dan in whatever state he's in. "That's fine. You're allowed to feel that way. But you still have to get up and take a shower." 

Dan wants to nut punch his therapist, and also himself for parroting the therapy techniques back at Phil. It's nice to be cared for, and sometimes it's necessary, but every instinct in his body just wants to crawl back into bed right now and sleep this feeling away no matter how many days it takes.

But that's exactly why Phil's right. 

Dan gets up and takes his shower. 

*

There's an element of pantomime in everything he does. 

It's not difficult. There's enough around him to occupy him moment to moment. Breakfast, car ride to the venue, sound check, meet and greet, show, lunch, repeat it all again. He manages step by step because he always knows what the next step is meant to be, and if he has a moment Phil's right there to guide him with a warm look or a light touch to the arm. 

There's a moment when the doors to the dressing room are firmly shut and all the people milling about have scattered to do their last minute ticks and checks and lists, when Phil crowds in close and pulls him into a tight hold. 

Dan shudders into it and clings. Phil's hands are warm and solid stroking up and down his back. He breathes in a familiar mix of deodorant and cologne. He unlocks the door in his mind and lets things cascade out. 

It's not as scary as it could be. He understands it now. He knows his own mind well enough. But it's still so much. 

"Just one more day," Phil says, pulling back. He cups Dan's face in a way that always makes Dan feel small and cherished. Dan closes his eyes and waits for the kiss he knows is coming, smiling when it lands on the tip of his nose instead of his mouth like he'd been expecting. 

*

They're in the car. Dan's legs feel like noodles and his brain feels full of spikes, like his own thoughts are things he needs to twist and turn through or else get trapped in. The exhaustion his body feels after two shows is almost a relief. There's not much room for anything besides the ache of honest exertion in his bones. 

He picks up his phone and starts to scroll in a mindless way. 

Phil reaches over and plucks it from between his fingers. 

"Hey," Dan says, more curious than put out. 

Phil tucks it into his pocket, on the far side away from Dan. "Nah. We're going to try something new?" 

Dan glances ahead. The people sat in front of them have headphones in, except the driver who is humming along to his music. 

Dan can tell Phil's waiting on him to push harder, ask more. 

Instead Dan just shrugs and closes his eyes. 

* 

"You can actually have it back if you'd like," Phil says, once they're in the hotel room. He sounds hesitant. "I just know sometimes it doesn't help." 

"Keep it," Dan says, sprawling out on the bed like a starfish. The ceiling is textured white. 

Phil sits down beside him and curls his fingers into the hem of Dan's shirt, tugging up. Dan lifts his shoulders without moving the rest of his body so Phil can pull it over his head, then lets Phil peel it down his arms. 

"Still got to eat," Phil says. His fingers work at Dan's belt, then the button and zip of his jeans. "What do you want?" 

"Doesn't matter," Dan says. 

"Dan." Phil taps Dan on the hip until he lifts his ass so Phil can work the jeans down. "You've got to eat." 

"I'll eat," Dan says. "I'm hungry. Just don't care what." 

Phil tosses the jeans onto the floor and leaves Dan in his pants. It's cold in the room and his nipples pucker from the chill of it. Dan rolls onto his side and rests his forehead against Phil's thigh while Phil looks through the room service menu. 

* 

He tweets while Phil is in the shower, stealing his phone from where he'd watched Phil put it underneath their folded clothes. 

He only waits as long as it takes to see the replies start flooding in before he darkens the screen and puts it back under Phil's shirt. 

* 

The food arrives before Phil is done. 

Dan puts on a pair of Phil's pyjama pants to answer it. He doesn't bother with a shirt, just mutters a quiet thanks and takes the cart of food trays off of the room service attendant before he can even push it fully into the room. 

The door to the shower's only half shut. "Food," Dan calls out, and the water turns off moments later. 

Dan smiles down at the plates, lifting each lid to see what's underneath. "Ooh, are those the chips?" Phil asks, reaching around Dan to snatch one up and shove it in his mouth. 

"You're naked," Dan says. "It's unhygienic to touch the food when you're naked." 

"It's my food now," Phil says, stealing another fry. "I'll rub my willy on it if I want to, I paid for it." 

"Please don't rub your willy on the food," Dan says. He glances down at Phil's dick, soft and pink hanging between his legs. "Unless it's dessert, then that might be hot." 

"I don't want to have to take another shower," Phil says. "The food will go unwillied today. Come on, let's take this to bed, I'm cold." 

"You could put some clothes on," Dan says, reaching out and slapping Phil's pale, bare ass. 

“Or,” Phil insists, “We could just eat in bed.” 

It's the sort of unabashed silliness that feels like a warm blanket has been wrapped around his shoulders. 

*

Phil sees the tweet an hour later, when he picks up his own phone to check it. 

"Hey," he says, sounding surprised. Then he puts it down and leans over and kisses Dan. The kiss tastes like chocolate and heavy cream, the dessert they split between the two of them. "You're okay?" 

"I'm okay," Dan says, yawning without bothering to cover it up. They've got a movie on, something that was playing on a local station that they've both seen before. 

"It'll be good for you, I think," Phil says. 

"Yeah." Dan still feels heavy, not in the best way but not in the worst way either. Numbness is a creeping, crawling thing but the warmth of Phil's skin seems to drive the worst of it away. 

He is okay. He knows what bad feels like. He’s been there plenty of times. He also knows what good feels like, and maybe this isn’t quite that either. But this is… okay. 

It’s not always about needing things to be good; sometimes it’s just about needing them to not be bad, to skirt around the worst of it. 

Tomorrow they'll plunge into a world of people again, new faces and airport lines and a whole landscape they've never explored. He'll wake up feeling ready, feeling something, and he'll let himself ease into it at whatever pace works. 

If Phil could darken every screen in Dan’s mind’s eye just for a couple of days, Dan would let him. But maybe this one weight off his shoulders is just what he needs.


End file.
